There’s something sexy about a man who knows how to survive in dire conditions. I just read about a hiker who was trapped under an 800-pound boulder. He sawed off his mashed hand with a Swiss Army Knife, wrapped his stump in a tourniquet, and then had the fortitude to rappel one-handed back down to safety. Personally, I wouldn’t have the guts to cut off one of my hair extensions if it got caught in a tree branch.

When I watch Man vs Wild I have fantasies about Bear Grylls saving me from quicksand by ripping my bikini top off and using it to pull me to safety. Or, he has to protect me from a possible killer wasp attack by rubbing my entire naked body with warm mud – we’re talking every nook and cranny. The only thing that ruins the fantasy for me is when he eats a skunk’s asshole or something. Check please.

Perhaps I’m speaking feminist treason, but I believe every girl, deep down inside, wants to be with a man who can take care of her. I’m grateful for wilderness survival experts because they remind me that while I’m surrounded by metrosexuals at work, there are still plenty of real men out there. I want to be with a real man for the most basic reason of all, sex. If a guy is masculine enough to spend the night in a bed made out of poison oak and fermented sheep dung, when he gets home, he’ll never complain about having to sleep in the wet spot.

That’s why I’m grateful for wilderness survival experts.